


I Feel For You

by labelladonna99



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Foreplay, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 14:56:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20622920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labelladonna99/pseuds/labelladonna99
Summary: What would it be like to finally touch another human being after three years alone? Sylar tries to give Peter a taste. Hint: It's delicious. The title is from Prince's I Feel For You.





	I Feel For You

**Author's Note:**

> We know that what Sylar went through for three years had to be horrible and traumatizing. But those are just words. What does it *feel* like to be utterly and completely alone, without a mosquito to bite you or a bee to buzz in your ear and remind you that you're alive? We can't possibly know that kind of sensory deprivation, but it's what I wanted to ponder. As I did, it occurred to me how every sensation would be magnified almost beyond endurance once his exile was over. And that thought led to this....my first PWP.
> 
> If you like it and want more, lmk! Comments inspire me. :-)

Sylar crouched in front of Peter’s chair and placed his hands flat on the other man’s thighs.

“It’s a shame that we didn’t get it on right away, as soon as you arrived and found me. You missed out on an unusual opportunity. We both did.”

He stroked up Peter’s thighs and back towards his knees, tracing little circles with his thumbs against the inner thighs. “Mmmmm,” Peter said. “I’m not sure I understand. That would have been weird. I don’t just walk up to people and start having sex with them.”

Sylar kept stroking, inching closer to the place where Peter’s hips and thighs joined and then backing away. He kept his eyes on Peter’s face despite his curiosity to know how aroused he was. His own jeans were feeling a bit tight across the front. With the tips of his fingers, he trailed a line up and around the bulge in Peter’s pants. When he got to his stomach, Sylar flattened his hands and rubbed up Peter’s torso and across his chest, squeezed and kneaded his shoulders and ran back down. Now his hands were splayed on Peter’s abdomen, just above the top of his jeans. With his thumb, Sylar fiddled with the top button of Peter’s jeans, not to open it, but just for fun. Peter inhaled deeply but the torture was only beginning. Sylar intended to tease him to the brink of insanity.

“Peter, I hadn’t seen, heard, smelled, touched or tasted another person in years,” Sylar said. “Try to imagine the sensory deprivation, if you can. I doubt you can come close.”

He grasped the top hem of Peter’s pants with both hands. Peter took another deep breath. Sylar slid his hands across the hem in opposite directions and then brought them back to center, his fingertips skimming just inside Peter’s underwear. The eye contact between the two men was intense. Another deep breath and Peter made an involuntary upward thrust of his hips. Sylar wanted to chuckle but he suppressed it. God, this was fun.

“Close your eyes. I want you to try to imagine being completely alone.”

Peter complied. Sylar made his hands stop roaming to simulate the absence of contact he endured. It was a poor facsimile, nowhere near what it was really like. Not even for a millisecond. Nevertheless, now that he’d riled Peter up so thoroughly, he intended to leave him wanting.

“Imagine you haven’t seen anything for three years except the same old landscape, day in and day out. Every day. Not a single person. You’ve almost forgotten what people look like, except from whatever old mental images you can conjure. You don’t know what people sound like anymore. Or how they feel. Skin, hair, muscles and bones. What it’s like to touch them or have them touch you? You’ve forgotten what people smell like. Their cologne, and shampoo. The minty smell of toothpaste on their breath. Or sweat. All of that is gone, long long gone. You’re alone. Completely and utterly alone and the only sounds you hear are the ones you make yourself or, occasionally, the wind and the rain.

“Can you feel it? How alone you are? Me speaking right now is your imagination, a voice inside your head. There’s nobody here. It’s just you and pretty soon the sound of me talking will fade and you’re going to forget what a voice sounds like too. I want you to stay in that chair with your eyes closed and listen to the sound of nothing, smell the absence of anything, taste the emptiness. Don’t move until I tell you that you can. I want you to think about starting and ending every day alone, think about the quiet and the boredom. Meditate on it deeply. Feel it like it’s really happening.” The twilight was deepening and soon it would be fully dark. When Sylar switched off the floodlight, Peter would have nothing to look at but the stars above.

“Do you agree?” Sylar asked.

“Yes.”

Sylar knew how to be quiet. Years as a hunter had taught him how to come and go with minimal sound. It wasn’t as easy to do that here, where there were no competing noises to hide the tiny taps of his careful footsteps, the gentle in and out of his breath and the soft rustling of his clothing. That’s why he had coaxed Peter up to the roof and had left the security door open. Sylar backed away and slipped through the doorway, switching off the light. He watched for a few moments to make sure Peter stayed put, but he wanted to get out of hearing and smelling range.

After thirty minutes, Sylar figured Peter was either feeling antsy or had gone to sleep. It was time for the second half of the experiment. He climbed the stairs back to the roof.

“Peter?” he whispered from the open doorway. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Peter responded immediately. Half an hour alone and he was already eager for company.

“There's somebody here. Can you imagine? You’re not alone anymore. Go on, open your eyes and look.” Sylar switched the light on.

When Peter opened his eyes, Sylar stood before him, feet solidly planted and legs apart in a power stance. His hands were at his sides as he drilled into Peter from several feet away with his intense brown eyed gaze. He could see the rapt curiosity on Peter’s face as Peter followed his every move.

“Imagine being me and seeing you, the first person I’ve laid eyes on in years. You’re alive. Breathing. Moving. Talking. You’ve got that tight black shirt on. I can see the definition in your arms and chest. You’re not too bad looking. No, that’s a lie. You’re stunning to look at under any circumstances but after three years alone, you’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I come closer.”

Sylar stepped within arm’s reach of Peter and told him to stand up. “I can smell you from over here. You’re a Disneyworld of smells...your shampoo, hair product, aftershave, deodorant, your breath - no toothpaste smell but don’t worry, you don’t have bad breath. Underneath all of the concocted smells, there’s something else. It’s warm and human and it’s the best thing I’ve ever smelled in my entire life. I want to inhale it, sniff it like a kid huffing glue.”

Peter chuckled and Sylar laughed too. “Okay I might’ve gone overboard for a second there. Quit laughing, Peter. I need you to take this seriously. Trust me.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, biting his upper lip, clearly trying to suppress his laughter. “Sorry.”

“I can smell you and it’s like chemistry. I want to get closer. I want to see you up close.”

He took two steps until he was within the normal circle of proximity for two people who knew each other and were reasonably friendly.

“I haven’t seen hair other than my own in ages. I want to touch yours.”

Sylar rubbed a few strands of Peter’s hair between his fingers. “Mmm. It feels exactly how I thought it would. Soft and silky. I want to touch your skin. May I?”

“Of course,” Peter said. “You touched me that first day without asking.”

“Did I?”

“You kinda gave me a checking look and I guess I let you know it was okay although I wasn’t sure what you had in mind.”

“Hmm. Too bad I didn’t do this,” Sylar said, touching two fingers to Peter’s cheekbone. “Smooth. So warm and soft.” He slid his fingers lower, rubbing the stubble adorning Peter’s jawline. “I want more, Peter. It’s been years since I’ve seen anyone’s body. Let me look. I start undoing the buttons on your shirt…”

“I thought I had on a t-shirt?” Peter teased.

“Shhh. It’s a t-shirt with buttons,” Sylar replied, and when the last button was undone he held the shirt open to admire Peter’s chest and stomach.

“Oh god, can you imagine what it would have been like to see this much skin after so long without anybody to look at, not even pictures? Just think of the reaction and you would have been the cause, you hot little s.o.b..” Sylar eased the shirt off Peter’s shoulders and let it drop to the floor. “Jesus, you are so beautiful. I can hardly stand it. I’m going to touch you everywhere.”

Sylar let his hands roam all over Peter as if it really were the first time and Peter played along. “Sylar, I want to see you and touch you, too.” He pulled Sylar close and stroked his face and neck, then lifted his shirt and pushed it over his head. Sylar shut his eyes and breathed deep when Peter touched his chest, remembering the first time they’d been together and imagining what it would have been like to go from zero to sixty in their first meeting after three years.

“If I kiss you, I might devour you,” Sylar said. “I’m going to do it anyway.” He crushed his mouth against Peter’s and they made out until they were nearly gasping for oxygen. Sylar’s lips were sore from the hard pressure of their kisses but he didn’t care. He grabbed Peter’s waistband and yanked him closer, aligning their hips.

“Peter,” Sylar breathed against his lover’s ear. “Picture me having these new sensory experiences all at once after years of total deprivation. Imagine that within minutes, I’ve gone from no human contact in ages to looking at your body, touching you all over, smelling you, feeling your skin on mine, kissing you, listening to those little sighs and moans you make in my ear. I have never been this aroused by anyone, ever, and I’m all yours. How turned on are you?”

“Jesus, Sylar. That’s so friggin’ hot.” Peter bit his shoulder and thrust his hips against Sylar’s.

Sylar grabbed Peter’s hand and moved it to his groin. “Touch me,” he voiced it softly, with all the yearning of a hunger denied for too long and Peter eagerly unbuttoned and unzipped Sylar’s jeans.

“Is this what you wanted?” Peter asked, wrapping his hand around Sylar’s penis.

“Stroke me.” Sylar’s voice was husky with lust. “Nobody’s touched my dick in years.” At the same time, he opened Peter’s pants and thrust his hand inside Peter’s boxers. “Imagine getting a hand job within minutes of finding me,” Sylar said.

“I’m beginning to see your point,” Peter said, breathing hard as Sylar’s hand found a steady rhythm.

“I probably wouldn’t have lasted this long,” Sylar admitted, kissing and nuzzling Peter’s face, neck and shoulders.

“Me neither,” Peter agreed. “It’s fun to think about though.” His mouth found and captured Sylar’s.

They were both panting, thrusting into each other’s hands as their hips jerked faster and faster. “I’m close, Peter. Nobody’s gotten me off in ages. Come on, come with me. Now, Peter, now!” Sylar squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his arm around Peter’s waist. His face was buried in Peter’s hair.

“Ok yeah,” Peter groaned. “Me, too, me too. I’m there.” He pressed his mouth against Sylar’s neck as he came, crying out his lover’s name in a muffled groan.

They huddled together in each other’s arms afterwards, catching their breath.

Eventually they made their way to bed and much later, Peter asked, “Is that what it was like for you our first time?”

“Yes, a lot of it was true,” Sylar said. “We just didn’t break every barrier all at once. Too bad. It would have been intense....”

Peter nodded his agreement. “Do you think you were attracted to me because you were alone for so long? Like you imprinted on me as the first human you’d seen in years and if ten more people showed up, would you have been stuck on me because I was first?”

“Are you really asking if I’m sleeping with you because I’m hard-up? I wouldn’t have sex with Samuel Sullivan. Or that guy with the knives. Certainly not Bennet. There was a time I might have done Claire but that was temporary insanity. Her girlfriend is kind of cute though.”

“What about Mohinder?”

“Peter,” Sylar said with mock patience. “You did not just suggest I’d ever get in bed with the world’s dumbest genius.”

“C’mon, Sylar. Be honest. Mohinder’s a really good-looking guy.”

“True.”

“He’s hot.”

“Okay, yes. He is hot.” Sylar confessed, “I’d fuck him. But I wouldn’t like him.”

Peter’s laugh came from deep in his belly. “But you like me?”

“No,” Sylar said. “I don’t like you.” A wicked gleam shone in his eyes.

He could tell Peter was on to him when his eyebrows knitted in mock tragedy. “No?”

Sylar rolled over and straddled Peter, leaning in for a kiss that made up in sweetness what it lacked in passion.

“No. Liking doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“I’m glad your experiment worked out,” Peter said. “Can we do it again some time?”

“Of course,” Sylar agreed. “As long as you obey the rule.”

Peter raised his brow. “Which is?”

“It’s only a game. It can never be real again no matter how delicious it would be because that would require you to leave me. You can’t do that. Ever.” Sylar watched Peter carefully for his reaction. What his face did would matter more than words.

Peter’s face did all the right things. His eyes were warm, solemn, a little bit sad, even while his mouth curved sideways in a small, reassuring smile.

“I won’t,” Peter promised. “Never.”

***


End file.
